


No Solution, No Problem

by Insomniact



Series: Superheroes Not Required [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-18 08:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomniact/pseuds/Insomniact
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Tony deal with the media, and work out some of their own issues in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reading the first part of this series, "First Date?" probably isn't required to understand this story, but it would help.

“Why are we watching this awful show?” Tony asked suspiciously after plopping himself down on the couch and taking a few minutes to grasp the fact that the host of the program is currently discussing the differences between margarine and butter. Seriously, out of all of the topics available to him, all of the controversies, political debates, natural disasters, and he is talking about _spreads_? Which, granted, would not be such a big deal if this were a cooking show. But it’s not, it is – what Tony assumes, because he has never actually watched it before – a well-respected news program on a well-respected news channel.

“Steve is gonna be on in a few minutes,” Bruce supplies from his spot in a chair over on the left of the room where he is nibbling on a cracker.

“Ah,” is his confirmation, brushing a hand through his greased up hair from hours in the workshop. “Are all of his interviews with these lame news shows? Does anybody actually watch these anymore? Someone needs to start helping him decide his TV appearances. Because, this? Totally not acceptable.”

Now the host is listing the side effects of constant foot powder usage. _Much better._

“I’ve almost fallen asleep three times already,” sounds Clint’s unamused voice from in front of the table in the middle of the room. Tony barely contains his surprised jump, just now noticing the archer lying on the floor there. “JARVIS has more personality than this guy.”

“Hey,” Tony protests, because that is not even in question. “Don’t compare this clown to the masterpiece that is JARVIS.”

“Thank you Sir,” JARVIS replies, drier than usual, probably just to spite Tony. But compared to the guy on the TV it is practically rolling with enthusiasm.

Not even the man’s British accent can save the total essence of _nothing_ that he exhumes.

Natasha makes a shushing sound from her own chair opposite Bruce, turning to face the TV completely. “Steve is coming on.”

He is wearing the same black suit he had on during their real first date, now almost two months ago. And maybe Tony should reconsider his opinion on possible interview programs, because if this is what he wears to all of them, it would be worth sitting through another hour of the boring reporter talking about wood densities just to see Steve in such fine threads again.

The two of them shake hands, exchange pleasantries, and sit. Steve has a relaxed smile on his face, not at all forced. As if he actually enjoys being there, and he might, because Steve can be just that easy going when he wants to be. He takes his responsibilities and makes the best out of them.

They talk casually for a couple minutes. Steve explains what he likes to do when there is no Avengers business to take care of. Tony half pays attention to it, but mostly he just enjoys watching Steve’s body move. He doesn’t look uncomfortable in the slightest, which is a huge improvement from the first time Tony watched him on TV.

Until Steve stiffens minutely, and the camera cuts to the host’s face with something that could be considered an expression, at least more so than Tony has seen from him so far. He looks like he is about to say something he doesn’t exactly enjoy.

“Are you in a relationship with Tony Stark?”

Tony freezes, mouth caught agape, right hand at the back of his neck and the nails of the other poking into the fabric of the couch slightly next to where he is sitting.

Onscreen, Steve’s smile widens, but now there’s little genuineness to it.

“Tony’s a great teammate. The Avengers wouldn’t work nearly as well without him,” he replies politely, effortlessly.

The reporter’s eyebrows furrow disbelievingly. His mouth moves wordlessly, apparently straining to find a satisfactory reply.

“Yes, but are you guys dating?” he interrogates skeptically. “Romantically?”

“What would make you say that?”

“There are rumors, of course. But there is also that picture of the two of you walking through Central Park side by side together at night. I’m sure you’ve seen it.”

No, they have not seen it. Tony hasn’t seen it, so he is almost certain Steve has not either. If Steve came across it on his own, surely it is not something he would keep to himself.

“Well, who doesn’t like a nice walk in the park?” Steve comments, and his smile never waivers, eyes shining with humor.

The other guy looks like he is about to object again, but his face molds back into its usual emptiness. He plays it off with a joke, ‘who in their right mind would date Tony Stark anyway?’, and then continues with his usual questions. Steve’s smile never returns to the original warmth it held.

Tony realizes he has not taken a breath since the dialogue began. He lets it out, fumbling for air, trying desperate to get control of his body again. The program goes to commercial and belatedly Tony notices that all eyes in the room are now on him. Clint is peaking up from the edge of the table.

“Is this going to cause a fight?” he queries. “Because if so please let me know now so I can leave for Canada immediately.”

“You’re not allowed in Canada anymore,” Natasha inputs, turning back to the television, which is currently playing a diaper commercial.

“Not legally. Like that has ever stopped me before,” Clint explains with a devilish smirk.

Is it going to cause a problem? Tony personally has no qualms with how Steve had answered that question. Their relationship is not in a place right now where they can handle the outside world knowing about it. They haven’t been together that long. Tony has just recently started to grasp the fact that this could last. This thing between them, it has been almost … easy. Easier than Tony ever imagined it would be. Their transition from friends to more than friends was seamless. Nothing much has changed, honestly. They still go out together. Steve still spends a surprising amount of time down in Tony’s workshop. And they both attend to their own tasks, because they are busy men with their own lives. Except now they sleep in the same bed most nights, and occasionally, do more than that.

They don’t need every other person in the world to stick their noses into his and Steve’s business, asking countless questions. Most of which neither of them would have an answer for at this point.

Steve handled that challenge like a pro. Tony, the self-proclaimed media master, could not have done it better himself. He had successfully acknowledged the question while still not giving a direct yes or no answer. The soldier had evaded it masterfully.

Given the amount of poise he had shown in his reaction, Tony guesses that Steve feels the same way about this issue. He has gotten quite a bit of experience with the media in the last year, and surely he knows by now how harmful it can be at times.

But maybe he had answered a little _too_ fast?

Tony rubs a hand over his forehead a couple times. “No. No, I think we’re fine.”

Bruce and Natasha are both glancing at him worriedly now. Tony directs a placating smile at Bruce, who only eyes him wearingly in return.

“JARVIS, are those calculations done yet?” he interjects at the AI, ignoring Clint who is now planning his Canadian vacation aloud.

“Eighty-five percent, Sir.”

“Good enough,” he accepts. He bounces up from his spot on the couch, making his way back down to the workshop.

He stays down there for another number of hours he isn’t acutely aware of. He’s standing at the center of a swirl of blue lights, each holding an intricate schematic. Tony walks over to one holding the blueprints for a potential Iron Man gauntlet. He pulls a few parts away, unearthing the insides.

Dummy rolls up to him, disrupting one of the holograms, beams of light sputtering around and attempting to reform ineffectually.

“Dummy, you menace, what are you doing?”

The robot aborts its attempt to grab the wrench lying on the floor. He turns towards the genius and whirs lowly, clanking his mechanical fingers together.

“No, I told you you’ve lost wrench privileges. Now shoo,” Tony says, making the respective shooing hand motion. “Go be a disaster somewhere else.”

“He’s helping,” comes a new voice, and Tony looks up to see Steve standing in front the door, still in the suit from earlier. Tony takes a moment to appreciate the view.

“Yeah, well next time he can help by not dropping a wrench on my foot.” He swipes his hands around a few times, and the holograms surrounding him disappear. He makes his way over to Steve on the other side of the room, patting Dummy a couple times on the way over.

“Have I told you how great you look in suits before?”

“Yes,” Steve assures, smiling.

“Well, it deserves repeating.” Tony wraps his hands around the blond’s upper arms, and leans in for a kiss, just a slight brush of lips.

“Um,” Steve starts after Tony pulls back, unsure. There is an entirely new expression on his face now, confusion mixed with something else Tony can quite figure out. He starts to mouth something, but holds back, and then tries again. “How long have you been down here?”

Tony has to stop and consider that for a beat. “Just a few hours, I think,” is what he settles on.

“And before that? I’m assuming you didn’t eat anything while you were upstairs,” Steve explains, frowning now.

That assumption would be correct. Tony thinks he had planned to eat when he went upstairs, but then he got distracted by butter and margarine. And isn’t that ironic.

How does Steve even know he was upstairs? Tony feels like he’s missing something here, something that slipped his mind while he was busy accomplishing awesome things down here.

“When was the last time I saw you?” Tony asks, face scrunching up in thought. Steve groans.

“Tony,” he says disapprovingly. “You haven’t eaten in two days?”

No, there is no way that is true. Tony is nowhere near hungry enough to have been without food for that long. By then, it has far passed the point where he can no longer just ignore his growling stomach.

“Master Stark had a smoothie approximately eleven hours ago, Sir,” JARVIS clarifies.

Yeah, that sounds about right. JARVIS is a pal.

“Thank you JARVIS,” Steve returns politely, not looking away from Tony, frown still firmly in place.

Tony smiles and runs his hands up and down the bigger man’s arms. “See? I’m not that bad.”

“That is still a long time to go without food, Tony,” Steve replies rolling his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He grabs the other man’s arm and guides him through the door. “Come on, I’ll make you something.”

They go to Tony’s floor, where they usually sleep now. This is weird, Tony thinks, because Steve generally prefers to eat in the communal kitchen. He likes being around the team, and it has a better stock than Tony’s kitchen most of the time. The only things you’ll find here for certain are coffee and smoothie ingredients. It is a few floors below Tony’s own, and considering how adamant Steve is about feeding Tony right now, you would think he would have taken them to the closer floor. Steve and Tony only eat here when they want to be alone. But it is well past midnight, and everyone else is likely in their own quarters by now anyway.

Steve plops Tony down into a chair and heads to the counter, pulling out the necessary foodstuffs for sandwich making.

“The others told me you watched my interview?” Steve begins, and oh, that. His face is hidden from where he’s spreading mayonnaise on a piece of bread, but his voice sounds, well, controlled, like this is a tone that he is forcing himself to use. That’s not a good sign.

They probably should have talked about this beforehand. Surely people were going to catch on eventually. Is Steve not okay with the answer he provided? Did Tony do something to make him feel like that was his only option?

Tony gnaws his bottom lip a bit before answering. “Uh, yeah, part of it.” He lets out a breath, shifting in his chair. “The first part.”

If Tony had known they were going to have this conversation, he would have tried distracting the other man with sex, before they could get to it. Even if the chances of it working were slim, you can’t fault the guy for trying. He can be very persuasive when he wants to be. Unfortunately though, when Steve wants to talk about something, he will more often than not get to talk about it. Tony has learned that the hard way.

Tony sighs forlornly. The genius has had so many fantasies about Steve in a suit, undressing him slowly, using the tie in various fashions. It doesn’t look like he is going to get to experience any of them tonight.

“Clint said you freaked out,” Steve says carefully, grabbing plates out from a nearby cupboard.

“Yeah, well, Clint’s moving to Canada, so feel free not to listen to him anymore,” Tony grumbles, leaning back in his chair.

Steve turns with a plate in each hand, giving Tony a bewildered look. Tony smirks up at him as he sets down the first plate in front of the brunet, and the other in front of the chair on the opposite side, and then takes a seat.

“I guess you could say I freaked out a little, at the question. A tiny amount, slightly, probably not even worth mentioning,” Tony answers, picking up his sandwich. He sniffs it, because he is not entirely sure how long some of those ingredients have been in the fridge. He decides it seems fresh enough, so he takes a bite, chewing slowly to consider his word, wanting to convince Steve he has no hard feelings about the man’s answer earlier.

“But you handled it like a champ. All of these interviews are doing some good,” he soothes with a small smile. “Mr. What-Are-Emotions didn’t even know what hit him.”

That doesn’t seem to relieve Steve any, though.

“I just—I wanted to talk to you before I gave a legitimate answer,” he says, lips drawn thin.

“Oh.” Tony sets his food back down. “Did you … want to say yes?”

“Yes,” Steve answers simply, eyebrows furrowing tightly.

Tony sighs, preparing himself for what is ahead. Apparently they are going to fight, their first fight as a couple, and Tony is a little weary at the idea. Why does he have a habit of getting himself into these affairs on little to no sleep?

Steve straightens in his seat, pushing his plate away, already done with his sandwich.

“It’s probably something we should have gone over already. I figured it would come up eventually, considering how much time we spend together, even before we started this,” Steve illustrates, gesturing between them. “Honestly I’m a little surprised it took us this long to get photographed together. We’ve done worse things in public, than just walking together, too.”

“Do you really think that would be a good idea, Steve, coming out?” Tony questions, but bites his tongue, too late. That was awfully poor word choice. He wishes he could take it back immediately.

Steve’s face gets this dark look about it, as if Tony has personally insulted him. Tony tries to correct himself, but the bigger man is already speaking, with an intense scowl taking over his features.

“I’m not ashamed of us, Tony—“

“No, of course not,” Tony puts a stop to that train of thought, before he’s able to follow it up with the inevitable ‘are you?’ because that is an entirely different argument and he cannot deal with that right now. He would like to stick with just the one at the moment, if possible.

“But Steve, do you know the hell that would cause? Protestors would be lining up in front of the tower, demanding the Avengers disband, demanding that you give up the title of Captain America.”

Steve twitches. “I can handle a few bigots, Tony.”

“Damn right you can,” Tony says, smiling brightly at the blond. He moves his own plate to the side and leans across the table, trying to charm his way through the grimace the other man is sporting right now. “Look, I just think we should give it more time. We haven’t really been together for that long, and I don’t think it would be a good idea right now for us to be announcing something so sensitive, for everyone to hear.”

He sits back in his chair properly, and lowers his voice. “I signed up for a relationship with you, not you and everyone else who feels like they get a say in our lives.”

Steve’s scowl persists, and for a minute they just stare at each other, Tony with his hopeful gaze and Steve with his stubborn resolve.

Then the soldier sighs. “Yeah, alright,” he accepts, the expression on his face easing now.

Tony forces the frown that tries to creep up on his features down. That was too easy, way too easy. Steve is not one to give in so quickly. The way he looked a minute ago, it was like he was ready to go to war all over again. Tony thought it likely that they would be at it for a couple hours. They’ve had longer arguments, about mostly inconsequential things too. It’s what happens when you put two people who are so fiercely adamant together. Sparks are bound to fly, and not the good kind.

Steve is probably just complying for now so Tony can get some sleep, he thinks. Which means this isn’t over, but Tony will take what he can get. It will give Steve some time to mull over what the smaller man said, and hopefully he will come to realize Tony is right about this. Because he actually wants this to work, believe it or not, and they don’t need to be adding unnecessary difficulties into their path. Tony may be self-destructive, but he is not insane – at least not completely.

He knows a good thing when he sees it.

Steve moves his plate back in front of the genius, sandwich resting on top only half eaten.

“I’m going to go change, you finish eating,” he says while standing. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Or, you can stay here, and I can undress you myself,” Tony offers with a raised eyebrow.

“I question your abilities to undress yourself, let alone other people.”

“You wound me, Cap,” Tony grouches lightly, trying to pout through the smile that is valiantly striving to take over his face. “I thought we were supposed to be on the same team.”

“Eat,” Steve reminds, laughing.

Tony frowns disappointedly at him as he makes his way around the table to head to his floor, forgetting about any possibility of living out his fantasies tonight. The smothering is so not sexy.


	2. Chapter 2

The issue doesn’t come up again for a while. Steve was done with all the interviews he had planned for that month.

Things went back to normal between them. Mostly.

Tony started being more careful around Steve when they were in public. When they were walking together he tried to keep at least a foot of distance between them. The restaurants they ended up going to when they went out to eat were always hole-in-the-wall places in out of the way parts of the city where nobody could be bothered to take a picture of them.

The worst part though, was that Tony wouldn’t let Steve try to join their hands anymore. Physical contact as a whole pretty much disappeared completely outside of the tower. And that was immensely disconcerting, because Tony was usually a very tactile person. The man touches like he breathes. He communicates through it, learns through it. He has to get his hands on something to really understand how it works, learn the feel of it.

Ever since Steve first moved into the tower, Tony was always initiating contact with him, and even though it threw him off at first, he has grown to love it.

It’s odd seeing the genius be so distant. And although Steve realizes, in the rational part of his brain, that it is not actually anything personal, that Tony isn’t creating this space between him because he feels uncomfortable around the other man, he still can’t help but feel slighted by it. Every time he reaches across the table they’re seated at and Tony jerks abruptly, looks around to make sure no one is looking – even though nobody ever is – and then relocates his hands to his lap, plastering on an apologetic smile.

Steve agreed to give it some time, let things progress naturally, before telling the world about the exact circumstances of their relationship. Tony is right, it hasn’t been very long since they started dating, and maybe it isn’t the best time for them to announce such a thing. It would be a big step, cementing the fact that they are _together_.

But not technically admitting it and going out of your way to hide it are entirely different things. And Steve can’t help but feel that Tony isn’t being completely honest with his reasonings for wanting to keep this in the dark.

Maybe, Steve thinks, he just doesn’t feel like their public declaration isn’t necessary because they won’t last long enough for it to matter. And then the tabloids will have that much more dirt to shovel around about Tony Stark’s nauseating love life.

As time goes on that suspicions seems more and more likely to be reality.

A month goes by, and Steve feels it’s time to line up a few new television appearances.

The question comes up again at the first one, and this time he replies with a stern no. The host, an older gentleman with mostly grey hair and a good amount of wrinkles, asks why he didn’t just say that the first time. Steve answers that he didn’t want to make it seem like he is opposed to the idea of a relationship with another guy by denying the inquiry so hastily. The reporter seems to accept this, and they move along.

The interview went pretty well, he even got the audience to laugh a couple times, but he can’t help shaking the feeling that he made the wrong choice.

It frustrates him. It frustrates him that he has to lie, because it makes him feel like he is giving up. It makes him feel like he has been confronted with a challenge and he chose to run away, instead of standing his ground, instead of fighting for what he believes in. And it devastates him. It goes against everything he stands for, everything he lives for.

He goes back to the tower feeling tired, but not physically tired. Not the kind of weariness that comes from a long day’s work.

He spends most of the night down in the gym, trying to work out some of his aggression. It doesn’t help, not like it usually does. He doesn’t finish the workout feeling relaxed, or at ease. He doesn’t feel any better than when he started. His fatigue simply morphs into a different kind. The over-exertion he has put on his muscles overtaking his strangling anxieties.

That, however, he can work with.

He ends up going to sleep in his room, because he doesn’t want to take the chance of possibly waking Tony, when the guy gets so little sleep as it is.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

It happens again, at his next interview a couple days later. This time, though, the interviewer doesn’t seem to be buying it. She pushes her skinny librarian glasses up her nose and challenges his answer. She asks why he and Tony spend so much time together, why the two of them seem so much closer than the rest of the team, why Tony accompanies him to art galleries and other events Tony has previously stated on camera that he wouldn’t be caught dead at. Steve tries to laugh it off.

“Tony and I are good friends,” he says, with too much enthusiasm.

So he spends that night down in the gym too, destroying a sandbag, feeling like he just jumped forward 70 years again. Feeling like he’s losing his place in the world after he just recently found it.

Tony makes his way down to join him after a couple hours. He watches the other man clean up the remains of the sandbag that was unfortunate enough to take the brunt of his assault.

Steve sets up a new one, ignoring the imposing billionaire, and a few minutes pass by in tense silence, punctuated by the staccato rhythm of the soldier’s fists against cloth.

“Did you want something?” Steve probes impolitely, not stopping the rapid thrusts of his arms.

“I want lots of things.” He’s probably grinning blithely right now, but Steve can’t bring himself to look at the other man to confirm.

Steve grunts at that. Another bout of silence follows. “If you came here to talk, then do it.”

Tony’s posture shifts from where he’s sitting on a bench next to a bunch of weights organized on the floor.

“Can you promise me you won’t throw me across the room if I do?” Steve stops at that, feeling like one of his own blows just ricocheted and hit him in the gut full force. Does Tony really think he’d do something like that? Steve can’t tell from his tone if he’s joking or not, but in this moment he can safely assume that Tony is being serious, and it hurts. “Or at least let me put on the suit first.”

Steve sighs, bringing his hands back up in fighting position. This conversation is clearly not going to go well.

“Tony, go back to bed.” He starts to work back up to his previous pace. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Tony’s face shut down, and now he looks wounded. Steve feels like an ass, like he just stomped on a child’s ice cream cone. He was trying to make it sound like a request, trying to say _one of us is going to walk out of this room, and if it’s not you it’ll be me,_ but his voice is full of tension and it had ended up coming out much severer than he intended. And now Tony thinks the bigger man is trying to order him to do so.

Steve would never try to pull rank on him in such an intimate setting, no matter how frustrated he is.

He wants to take it back. He wants to say he’s sorry, that he didn’t mean it. He can’t get the words out though, and just keeps slamming his fists into the punching bag relentlessly, as if striking it hard enough will resolve the situation.

“No, I’ll be in my workshop,” Tony rumbles spitefully, as he strides his way out of the gym with newfound vigor.

Steve slams a fist into the bag with an all-consuming strength, prying the threads apart and spilling its contents around the room, for the second time that night.

They avoid each other after that. Steve continues to sleep in his room, Tony barely leaves his workshop. Steve checks up on the genius’ wellbeing with JARVIS, makes sure that he isn’t starving himself.

A week goes by, and Steve’s last interview comes up. Honestly he’s happy just to get it over with.

But then a giant fire-breathing groundhog attacks the city, and the Avengers assemble to deal with it.

Steve has never been more relieved for a public safety hazard.

He’s able to simply concentrate on the mission, work with his team.

“I guess this means there’s six more weeks of winter,” Hawkeye says while rolling onto the top of another building, avoiding a fire blast that was sent his way. Steve laughs.

“It’s summer,” Black Widows points out. Steve doesn’t know where she is right now, but he sees Iron Man fly around the groundhog’s head, trying to distract it while the others do their best containment job.

“Besides, I think the whole breath turning to fire thing kind of counteracts that,” the robotic voice notes.

“Good point.” Hawkeye.

“Guys, can we concentrate on getting this thing off the streets?” Steve asks, smiling nonetheless.

Hawkeye shoots an arrow with a line attached to the end in front of the animal’s feet. Making a barrier to try and slow it down. “Sure thing Cap.”

They take the thing down. SHIELD comes to cart it away.

“Good job team,” he announces, getting on the first vehicle to take him back to base, feeling more relaxed than he has in weeks.

After the debriefing finishes, it’s already after midnight. He makes his way back to the tower, and heads up to Tony’s floor. He’s probably asleep right now, skipping the debrief as usual to come back and make the most basic fixes to the Iron Man suit in order to get it ready if another emergency pops up, before he gets a chance to do a full overhaul on it.

Right now he just wants to see the other man. They can talk things over in the morning.

When he gets there he opens the door carefully, but doesn’t get more than a couple steps in before Tony’s breath hitches, and he starts, turning from where he is face planted against the pillow to look at the intruder.

“Steve?” he asks with a bewildered expression, fighting to keep his eyes open. “What are you doing here?”

“Um,” he starts, trying for a smile. Tony’s talking again before he can get anything more out, his voice sounding surprisingly bitter for someone who just woke up mere seconds ago.

“If this is about me missing the debriefing, you can go fuck yourself.”

Steve takes a step back, looking defeated. “I just…” _I missed you._ He sighs. This was a bad idea. “Am I not allowed here anymore?”

Tony’s face hits the pillow again, and he makes some sort of muffled sounds. He turns towards Steve again, not quite being able to fully face the other man with his current position.

“I just thought you’d be downstairs right now, destroying a few punching bags,” he explains, and then rolls around, giving Steve a nice view of his back. “Probably picturing my face on them.”

Yeah, this was definitely a bad idea, it’s going horribly. Steve just wanted to spend some time the other man, without it turning into a fight. Today was the most contact with each other they have gotten all week, and Steve only got to see a blur of gold and red. The suit is amazing, exhilarating to watch in motion, but still nothing compared to the man underneath. He wanted to come back here, get some sleep lying next to Tony, because he’s sick of waking up in the morning alone. Then they could try to talk things out, in a civilized manner.

It doesn’t look like that is going to happen. The anger lying dormant inside of him is already starting to make itself known again.

“You know, I could make some sandbags with my face printed on them,” Tony offers, words sounding clearer than before, mostly awake now. “I’m sure you’ll get a lot of use out of those.”

Steve takes another step back, almost against the door now. “I’ll just go,” he whispers, turning around, wanting to get out before he makes things worse.

“No,” Tony says when Steve has his hand on the knob, rotating it. “Say what you have to say.” He’s facing Steve again, sitting on the edge of the bed, feet hitting the floor. “Communication is key, and all of that BS, right?”

Steve relents, spins back around, so many emotions fighting for dominance, and lets them take hold of him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he blurts. Tony winces, his eyes meeting the floor. His mouth starts to move, the formation of words, but Steve cuts him off, finishing his thought. “The lying. I can’t do it. It isn’t right.”

“Then stop doing interviews,” Tony suggests harshly, standing up, and in the shadowed room it’s impossible to tell his facial expression.

Steve doesn’t want to stop. He wishes it could be that simple, but he’s actually come to enjoy his visits to various TV programs. He’s gone from being lost in the world, being perpetually behind the times, to being _part_ of popular culture. He gets to show people that he’s not just a stiff hired to put on a costume play a part, that there’s actually a person under the spangles. He gets to introduce people to Steve Rogers.

And when he’s on a show with a studio audience, he gets to talk to them afterward. Communicate with real people, ask them how they’re day is going, ask them what fears they have about the Avengers, and what he could do to try and minimize those worries.

He’s doing good things, and he won’t stop just because he has been faced with an inconvenient question.

“Everyone’s probably already made up their minds about the team already, so there’s really no use anymore,” Tony continues, sweeping a hand through his bedhead. “Opinions are like trees. You can choose where to plant them, but then they’re there forever. You can cut them down, but you’re still left with the stump.”

“Avoiding the problem isn’t going to make it go away, Tony,” Steve refutes, trying to keep his voice calm but failing spectacularly.

Tony growls, and throws his hands up in frustration. “There is no problem, Steve! All I asked for was some time.” He walks around to the far side of the bed, and turns to send a sharp glare at the bigger man across the room. “I didn’t even tell you to say no. I just said I wasn’t comfortable having every fucking person on earth knowing about us. How is that a big deal? Why are you so hell bent on turning this into an issue?”

“You’ve had time. It’s been a month, and all you’ve done is withdraw from me. When we’re out in public you barely look me in the eyes anymore. How was I supposed to take that?” Steve demands, raising his voice to meet Tony’s own, trying not to sound as offended as he feels.

“Not like this,” he responds coldly, hand coming up to rub at a temple. “You’re just looking for a reason to end this. That’s what this is about. You’ve realized you made a mistake, but you’re too fucking stubborn to admit it. You just want those fiends on TV to know about us so badly so they can do what you can’t bring yourself to do. Fight until the very end, even for a lost cause.”

There’s a battle going on inside Steve, between the immense hurt he feels at the billionaire’s acerbic words, and the building rage, ready to explode. The fury wins out.

“How can you even say that I’m the one who thinks this is a lost cause?” he spits. “You never believed it would work between us, too caught up with your own problems to see what could have been a good thing. I had to chase you across the country just to try and convince you to give this a chance.” He crosses his arms, pins a cold stare on the genius. “You doomed us from the start.”

“Looks like we’ve given it a chance,” Tony decides, all of the emotion wiped from his face in an instant.

Steve stands there for a beat, at a loss of what to do. His shoulders slump pathetically, and he looks toward the corner of the room.

“You’re a coward, Tony Stark,” he says sadly.

“Yeah, well, you’re not wrong.”

Steve turns to leave, a whole new version of tired crashing into him, like a tidal wave he wasn’t fast enough to swim away from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I have no idea where I was going with that tree metaphor either. :1 I blame Tony.
> 
> I don't really like where this story is going to be honest, but I'm trying to salvage it...


End file.
